A New Beginning
by Francis93
Summary: Jaime kills the Mad King, breaking his Kingsguard vows. Yet, there is a promise he made that he does not want to break. A choice he makes changes his life forever, and there is no going back. [AU, post Robert Rebellion. Rating M for violence/gore] - special thanks to my brother and my friend Scarlett, my wonderful beta readers
1. Chapter 1

"_Burn them all!" _The King screamed, and raged, pacing restlessly in the Throne Room. Behind him, the Iron Throne loomed as dark as an omen – it reminded Jaime of all the swords that had served to forge it, and all the blood that had soaked the ground when it was built.

"_Burn. Them. ALL." _The words almost made no sense as they were spoken. They sounded so distant, and so useless, no matter how much the Mad King screamed. A flash of gold, a blade swung in a precise movement, and Lord Rossart, the Hand of the King, was lying dead in the ground, his head rolling away from a lifeless body. _His wildfire did not serve him well enough. _The Mad King did not even notice, his screams filling the silence of the hall.

"_Dead! I want them dead, all those traitors!" _He went on, as if nothing had happened, his voice echoing in the halls of the Throne Room.

When Jaime walked towards the old man, it seemed as if he was not the one whose steps echoed in the room, but someone else. He could almost feel the empty eye sockets of the dragon skulls following every step he took, and a shiver ran through his spine at the thought. _Not even dragons can protect him now. _He went on walking, until he was face to face with the old man. He looked so frail with his silver blonde hair unwashed and a net of wrinkles on his face. His nails were long and dirty, his lips chapped as he pressed them in a hard line, an expression of pure disgust on his face. Once, this king had worn a crown with pride. Now, it looked as if that same crown was out of place on his brow.

"_They must burn! All of -" _The words turned into a gurgling soundas Jaime's sword slit the King's throat with a clean swing. The blood that rushed away from the old man's skin stained the gold of the knight's armour, but it did not matter. _At least it is not the white of the Kingsguard_. At least it was not his white cloak he had soiled.

_The realm does not need a Mad King. Westeros has already bled enough. It is kindness…_ Aerys collapsed on the floor of the Throne Room, frail hands reaching up towards the wound, in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding.

As he watched the old man die, Jaime did not feel the tiniest shred of guilt. Nothing had ever felt more right than seeing the life leave the King's body, the light fleeing from his deep lilac eyes. Not a long time ago, life had left eyes very similar to the ones that were staring at him now, in the waters of the Trident.

_A King does not die like this. He dies fighting, a sword in his hand, not choking on his own blood. A King dies with the clangour of the battle in his ears, not in the silence of a dim-lit hall. _A King dies the way Rhaegar Targaryen did.

"_Protect my family, Ser Jaime."_ Prince Rhaegar had told him, high on his warhorse, towering over every other man in his black armour. Jaime remembered the way the breastplate was alive with the rubies that decorated the black metal, as the Prince went off to war. It was a glorious sight, and he could not help but envy his sworn brothers that would accompany the Prince to fight.

"_A knight of the Kingsguard is sworn to protect the royal family, Your Grace." _Rhaegar simply nodded, as solemn as his duty wanted him to be, yet his mouth gave a small twitch, as if something was displeasing him.

"_You will be the only one to protect them. I shall wish to embrace my children and my lady wife, when I come back." _Not his father, Jaime could not help but notice. He felt proud of the way the Prince was talking to him now, trusting a man of six and ten with the life of the Princess and the children. In that moment, he was no longer a boy, but a man, with a man's responsibility.

_He did not ask Arthur Dayne. He did not ask Gerold Hightower. He did not ask Lewyn Martell. He asked me. _He could not help but feeling a rush of pride, as the thought came to him. _He thinks I am the best of them._

"_We shall wait for your safe coming home." _He concluded, and in that moment he was almost sure that he had seen Rhaegar's lips curling up in a smile. Jaime had returned it, vowing that he would not make the Prince regret trusting him.

Yet here he stood, in front of the dead body of his own King. What would they think, those knights he had admired so much, if they were to look at him now? Lewyn Martell died, fighting by Rhaegar's side, while the Sword of the Morning and the White Bull remained so far away._ I am the only one now. They can't judge me. They don't understand._

_I am the only one who can protect them. _Rhaegar's last word echoed in his ears, and nothing could make the memory go away. He left the Mad King to die, the sword still red with the old man's blood as Jaime rushed out of the Throne Room. His footsteps echoed within the walls, the familiar metallic clangour of his armour accompanying him, and it felt as if his own sworn brothers were looking at him, along with the dragon skulls.

He passed the Godswood and the Tower of the Hand, running past the Sept and towards the armory. The serpentine steps uncoiled before him, but Jaime did not hesitate. When he reached Maegor's holdfast, he realized he had even less time than he thought. The portcullis was down, servants and guards alike fleeing in every direction, taking everything they could from the royal chambers. It was utter chaos. Everyone was screaming and running, seeking for some place to hide before the inevitable sack.

In the distance, the rhythmic sound of a battering ram hitting the city gates reminded him that there was no time. He began to fight his way through the crowd, shouting to let him pass. Most were too scared to listen to him, and another good part did not hear. Some of them simply did not care. It took him more than he had hoped to reach the portcullis, where the Goldcloaks were already fighting against the crowd that sought shelter behind the walls of Maegor's holdfast. The biggest part of the City Watch was either on the walls, prepared to defend the Red Keep, while another part had already deserted duty for the safety of some hiding place.

The guards at the portcullis did not object when he shouted to let him pass, saying the King wanted him to protect the Princess and the children. No wise man questioned the orders of the King… and they all thought he was still alive.

He reached the chambers of the Princess as fast as he could, running through the corridors and rushing up on the stairs. There was no one to stop him.

When he opened the door, Princess Elia's hand reached towards the table for the knife she had used for her meal, in a feeble attempt to defend herself and her children. Her small hand clutched at the hilt so hard that her knuckles went white, her fingers shaking for fear. The grip on the weapon went soft, however, when she recognized who he was.

"_Se Jaime." _Even now, her voice had a certain kindness, sweetness in the way she spoke although she was afraid. She leant with her back against the wardrobe she had moved from its location, taking a deep breath for the relief of the moment.

"_I… tried to bar the door." _She explained, as if she was apologizing for even thinking about it. _"But it is too heavy." _She added, her voice feeble as she spoke.

"_We must go, Your Grace." _ In his crib, little Aegon cried softly, scared by the sounds that came from outside the walls. They felt nearer and nearer with every passing second. The Princess walked to the crib, turning her back to Jaime, and took the newborn in her arms to stop him from crying. The child calmed down, curled against his mother's chest.

"_There is no time." _He exhorted hastily, his voice sounding harsher than he had meant.

"_How?" _She asked, turning once more to face him, her voice threatening to break as she spoke. He could not blame her. _They are here to kill her, and to hurt her children. Of course she is afraid. _

"_Trust me." _There was a moment of hesitation, in which the Princess clutched the baby more tightly against her chest. For a moment, Jaime thought that she would not trust him, but she simply nodded, the determination coming back on her features. _This woman will not surrender without fighting. _She wrapped the baby in his blanket, sliding the knife in her belt to gather courage and looked up at him. _I am her last hope._

"_But Rhaenys…" _She began, stopping in her track as they left the room. _"We can't leave her!" _

"_I know." _They walked on the stairs to reach the upper floor together, Elia holding Aegon in her arms and Jaime with his sword still in hand. Heavy footsteps followed them as they climbed up to Rhaegar's chambers.


	2. Chapter 2

"_Mama!" _Rhaenys ran to the door when Elia entered the room, frail arms clutching at her mother's gown with all the strength a girl of three could muster. She buried her face in the fabric of the Princess' skirts, hiding the tears that had damped her cheeks.

"_I'm here, darling." _The woman soothed her, fingers running through her daughter's black curls, the way she did to make her fall asleep. _We are both safe, now. Ser Jaime will protect us._ _"But we have to go now." _Rhaenys nodded, trying to look older than her three years of age, hiding her fear behind a brave face. _That's my little girl. _Elia felt a rush of pride for her daughter, as she took her little hand in hers to lead her out of the chambers.

An indignant meow reminded them of the black tom cat curled up under the bed.

"_Mom, we can't leave him!" _Elia sighed.

"_Fine. But you'll have to take care of him." _Rhaenys smiled happily, as she slipped under the bed. She surfaced with a ball of black fur in her arms,and only then she was ready to leave.

Jaime had stayed outside of the room, letting Elia enter alone, and Rhaenys let out a scream when she saw him, his golden armour stained with blood and the sword drawn.

"_He is going to help us." _She hushed the child, explaining why he was there, and Rhaenys eyed the knight warily. Jaime, however, did not waste time in calming the young girl's fears. They needed to go now, to be as far away as they could before the army would enter the gates, and Elia understood that as well.

The corridors seemed endless before them, and they all looked the same even for those who lived there. The only light came from the torches at the walls, giving the impression of an endless dark tunnel. Elia wondered if they would all die there, between those harsh stones, but pushed the thought away as fast as it had come. _We will all live,_ she told herself.

When she heard the clangour of metal coming from before them, she stopped in her tracks, holding her daughter's hand more tightly and the child safely in her arms. It was a matter of seconds, before three armed men came running from the staircase. Jaime took a few steps forward, as if he was preparing himself to fight, but his sword was pointed towards the floor. For a moment, Elia feared that she had trusted this man too soon, that he would really throw them all in their enemy's arms.

"_Ah, there they are. You did a good job, Ser Jaime." _The voice of the knight in the middle was thin, no matter how the helm he wore gave a metallic sound to it. His sword was drown and bloody, meaning that he had fought to get there.

"_It was not hard, Ser Amory." _Jaime replied, his voice almost amiable as he spoke, taking a couple more steps towards the other man. The knight and the two soldiers lowered their swords, and the one in the middle even lifted his helm's visor, revealing a face with cruel features and sharp dark eyes. Elia felt a shiver running through her spine, felling the knight's eyes on her as he wetted his lips with his tongue.

"_She is pretty, the dornish bitch. Too bad she must die." _By her side, Rhaenys was fighting not to cry, while Aegon whimpered against her chest.

"_Yes. Too bad." _Elia barely saw the movement of Jaime's sword, but when she lifted her eyes to Amory's face there was an angry gash from his nose to his chin. Rhaenys screamed, as the knight fell on his knees. The other two cursed, and prepared for the fight, but Jaime was faster.

Elia only saw a flash of metal, and the second man fell back a few steps, his chainmail cut open and his entrails spilling on the floor. Jaime lifted his arm to parry the blow that came from the man on his left, but the blade collided harshly with his armour instead of stopping against a shield that was not there. With an angry growl, the golden blade found its way in the visor of the man's helm, and came back soaked with blood.

"_Are you…" _Elia asked, when Jaime turned towards them to see if they were alright.

"_We can't stay here." _He cut short, his breathing rapid from the fight, however short it had been.

"_Your Grace. Ser Jaime. This way." _Elia knew the voice. Lord Varys was wearing a brown cloak, the hood falling on his shoulders and allowing them to see his face. She was not sure she could trust the man, the Spider as everyone called him. She looked at Jaime, who nodded slightly at her, and realized she had no choice but to trust the eunuch.

"_I know a passage. It will bring you to the docks." _Varys explained, leading the way. They walked in corridors Elia did not recognize, opening doors that the Princess had never seen but that the Spider seemed to know like the back of his hand. _The secret passages. He knows all of them. _In that moment, Elia was thankful for Maegor the Cruel's paranoia.

Rhaenys had fallen silent, too scared to even cry, holding her mother's hand tightly. Elia's arm was beginning to tire from the weight of Aegon's body, but the adrenaline of the moment was enough to make it seem like a minor problem. For the first time, she dared to hope that they could all be alive when the night would come, all of them together. _All but my husband. _

"_Why are you helping us?" _Jaime asked, his voice weary, and Varys gave a sigh at the question.

"_Why does no one trust the Spider?" _He took a few moments of silence, before giving the proper answer to the question. _"My loyalty lies in the realm, Ser Jaime. With Rhaegar gone, and Viserys too young to reign…" _The eunuch turned for a moment to look at Elia, and she knew what he meant with those words. _I am the Queen Regent for my brother in law. _She could not say that the thought made her happy.

Jaime seemed to understand as well.

"_Where is Viserys?" _She asked, worry in her voice. She was fond of the child, although his father tried to keep her as far from him as he could.

"_He and his newborn sister are with Ser Willem Darry, on a ship to Essos." _Elia turned pale at the thought. It could only mean one thing.

"_What about Queen Rhaella?" _She dared to ask.

"_She died giving birth." _Elia felt her eyes stinging with tears at those words, and for a moment she could not quite grasp their meaning, refusing to believe it. There was no time to cry, and she could not afford to stop just now. She would grieve her mother in law when she and her children would be safe.

They walked through the secret passage for a time that seemed infinite, even if Elia doubted it could have been more than a few minutes. When they surfaced, they were well away from Maegor's Holdfast, she realized. The sound of the battle was distant now, and before them she saw the sea. Varys walked securely towards one of the ships, and Elia wondered when he had planned all of this.

"_It will bring you to Dorne." _Varys explained. _"The captain is loyal to the crown." _He added, anticipating Jaime's question.

"_That I am." _A voice came from behind them, as a man walked out of the darkness. _"You kept me waiting. The crew was ready one hour ago." _He added, sounding only mildly disappointed by the inconvenience. Elia was not surprised that she did not know who the man was. He looked young, to be the captain of a ship. She esteemed he could not be older than five and thirty, with straw blonde hair and fair eyes, clean shaven. He was short, not much taller than Varys, but his body gave an impression of strength with every move he made.

"_I… thank you, milord." _She thanked politely, knowing fully well the risks that he faced if they were caught. The man almost laughed at her, a raucous sound.

"_I am no lord, Your Grace." _

"_There is no time for pleasantries, Laerio. You must set sail." _Varys urged, looking around him wearily, as if expecting Lord Tywin or his soldiers to appear anytime soon.

"_Aye, m'lord." _Elia was puzzled for a moment when the Spider did not make a move towards the ship.

"_Are you not coming with us?" _She asked.

"_I shall cover your traces and divert the attention towards Essos, where they can't reach. My duty is here. Now go." _Elia nodded, and gave the Spider a small, tired smile, allowing Jaime to escort her to the safety of the ship. The knight had fallen silent, his sword still well in hand, ready to fight.

The last thing Elia saw, as the ship moved away from the quay, was the smoke rising from the city, the cries of the people carried to her ears by the wind.

* * *

**Author notes: **As a first thing, I would like to thank everyone who reviewed, followed or just read my story. As a writer, it means a lot to me that there are people who trust this story to be something good and worth reading! I think it is very important, and it does help me through the writing process.

You may wonder how I often I plan on updating this fanfiction. Well, the plan is to add a new chapter every week, on Saturday. I am currently ahead with chapters, so if I keep up at this rate I may even make it twice a week. We shall see…

Once more, thank you for reading this story, and I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it! Feel free to ask me questions about the plot, or to explain something if you have some doubts, and I will gladly answer to the best of my abilities!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire, the characters and the world belong to GRRM.I only own the writing and the original character(s) that are introduced as the story goes. I am not earning any money with this fan fiction.


	3. Chapter 3

It was the first day after the Sack, and the first day of Robert Baratheon's reign, when Jon Arryn entered the room where the Small Council was reunited. He knew every one of the men that sat at that table in respectful silence, ready to hear the new King's words.

Eddard Stark sat at Robert's left side, looking at unease, like a fish in the net of the angler, while the chair at the King's right was empty. Jon Arryn moved to sit there, between Robert and Tywin Lannister, knowing fully well that that place was meant for him. A brief look at the table, and the Lord of the Eyrie realized that he could trust half of the men in that room at least. While he would not be foolish enough to trust Tywin Lannister or the Spider sitting at the other side of the table, at least he knew that Ser Barristan Selmy was loyal to the crown, and so was Eddard.

"What do you mean escaped?" Even if he was struggling to keep calm, Jon knew Robert well enough to hear the dangerous edge in the King's voice as he spoke. His right hand was balled into a fist, nails digging into his palm to keep himself from hitting something. _Or someone. _Lord Varys' voice, however, was mellifluous as always as he spoke.

"My little birds saw them on a ship, Your Grace. Headed to Essos, they believe, perhaps to join the rest of the survivors." No man in the room seemed surprised by the supposition, even if Tywin's brow furrowed in an attempt to hide the displeasure.

"The Others take your damn little birds." The King cursed, his anger rising with every word pronounced at that table. _"I want them dead, the whore and her filthy dragon spawn." _He added in a hiss, his fist hitting the table to underline his words.

"The woman does not want revenge, and the child is a newborn, Robert." Eddard intervened, and Jon was at least partially grateful to his ward for speaking his mind. If there was one person in the whole Westeros who could calm His Grace's wrath, that person was the Lord of Winterfell. _The children have to die, but Robert may do something rushed, _Jon thought.

"I did not ask for your opinion!" The King was shouting now, and rose from his chair.

"Robert…" Jon stood as well, placing his hand on Robert's shoulder to invite the King to sit, but his foster son yanked himself free with a strong pull.

"They will die, and if any of you is too shocked by the thought, well then he better leave the room now." The King's eyes skimmed over every man in the room, one by one, as if he was threatening them to leave. Tywin Lannister sat perfectly still in his chair, and so did Varys, unfazed by the King's rage. Barristan Selmy's mouth pressed in a hard line, and it would be clear that he did not cherish the thought of slaughtering children, but did not flinch.

Eddard Stark, however, slowly rose from his seat.

"The Demon of the Trident… afraid of a sick woman and two babes." He hissed, as if the very words he spoke were insults, and turned his back to the table.

"Get your arse back on that chair, Ned." For a moment, Jon thought that Robert would hit his foster brother, but the Lord of Winterfell simply walked towards the door. "I will have you hanged for treason if you don't get back now." Robert's shouted threat did not make Eddard Stark turn back.

"And I will not have the blood of children on my hands." The Lord of Winterfell replied, giving his foster brother a disgusted look before closing the door behind him and leaving the room. Robert hit the table so hard with his fist that Jon was scared the wood would break from the sheer force of the impact.

"Damn the man and his bloody honour!" The words left Robert's lips as they were spit, and the room fell silent, no one daring to make a single sound.

"Away with the whole lot of you." The King gestured, waving his hand in a form of dismissal. Everyone rose from their chairs and left the room, but when Jon Arryn tried to do the same Robert's voice stopped him.

"No. You stay." The Lord of the Eyrie turned back towards his foster son, now his King, still standing behind the table. He waited for what his ward had to say, prepared to listen to him as he had done many times before.

"I had wanted him as my master of laws, but he's already lucky that I did not have his head on a spike." Jon knew Robert well enough to understand that he did not really mean it. He had always been impulsive, even as a boy, quick to anger and even quicker to forgive, and Eddard was like a brother to him. It was not the prospect of Robert doing something harsh that scared the Lord of the Eyrie.

"This time, I have to agree with you." He paused for a moment, pondering what words would need to be said next. "It is a repulsive thought, but Elia and her children must die." It would have been a lie to say that he liked to think about it, but he knew what had to be done, and he had always been a pragmatic man.

"Ah, at least someone with some sense." Robert was already calmer than he had been bare minutes before, and Jon was not surprised.

"Ned is a good man, however. You should make peace with him." The King nodded slightly, being the first to recognize the man's value even when they had different ideas. "But if you want to give him a prize for helping you win this war, let him go back home." Eddard Stark was a man of the North, and had little love for King's Landing and its mild weather. He had even less love for the intrigues of the court, but Robert did not seem pleased with the prospect of separating himself from a man he considered his brother, more so than Stannis and Renly.

"We will be brothers, once we get Lyanna back. I'll not have him talking to me like this in front of the other lords."

"And you never had a fight with Stannis?" The sound of the King's laughter filled the room, and Jon chuckled with him. After a moment, Robert returned serious.

"I will need a man I trust, Jon. Someone who will not put a knife between my shoulders." The older man nodded at the words, agreeing with his foster son.

"Make Tywin Lannister your master of coin. Make his power come from you, and he will be loyal." That was the only way to make sure that the Lannisters would be loyal to the crown, Jon pondered, but Robert did not seem pleased with the answer.

"That damn son of his is a bloody traitor." He protested. _"_Amory Lorch clearly said that he was with them, when they ran." Jon knew the story. It was on every mouth of the Red Keep… the son of Tywin Lannister slitting King Aerys' throat with his golden sword, and then helping Princess Elia and her children to flee from the city. Not to mention almost killing Ser Amory, who had however managed to tell the tale to master Pycelle. Now the Kingslayer, as people were taking to name him, was nowhere to be found. The thought worried Jon as well, but he tried to be reasonable.

"Varys will find them. Tywin already disowned his son, and it would not be safe to have him as an enemy." Everyone knew just how dangerous of an enemy the Golden Lion could be when offended, and Robert's reign was too young for another war. It was the way Aerys' reign had ended. The King nodded in silence, realizing that was the only choice he had now.

"What do you suggest me, then?" Jon pondered for a few moments the reply to give to the question, wondering what would be the best course of action to secure Robert's reign. _Marry Cersei, not Lyanna, and tie the Lannisters to you. You already have the support of the Starks. _Yet, he knew that Robert would not take those words kindly.

"You need to reward those who fought for you… the Tullys will want a seat in your council." He replied, cautious in order not to enrage the King without the need to.

"I will send a raven to Lord Hoster. He has to come to King's Landing, and take his place as my master of laws." Jon nodded, approving of the plan. Robert was not stupid, he pondered, but he was impulsive. Giving the Tullys a seat in the Small Council would be an honour they could not refuse, and a way to ensure their loyalty.

"And what about the master of ships?" Jon asked, pondering of who could be a good choice for the deed.

"Stannis. The man likes his ships more than he likes his betrothed, not that I blame him." Jon nodded at the suggestion. _"_Plus, I'll not have to see him gritting his teeth all the damn time."

There was a moment of silence, in which neither of them knew what to say. It was the King who spoke first.

"And you shall be my Hand of the King." Jon could not say that the news surprised him. His lips curled up in a smile, knowing fully well that it would have been hard to help Robert reign, yet he was glad that he got to make a part in it.

"It will be a great honour, Your Grace." Robert smiled back, the smile reaching his blue eyes, and Jon thought that this man would be a good king. _He only needs someone to guide him._

* * *

**Author notes:  
**Here is the third chapter of the story! Sorry for the delay, but I believe the website had some problems yesterday (or maybe that was just me?). Anyway, hope you enjoyed the reading! Now I am going to reply to some of the questions/comments I received :)

I use italics to express directly what a character is thinking in that moment. When you read something in italics, it means that those are the words that pass through the character's mind! I used it also for dialogue, but since I got reviews saying that it can get confusing, I decided to change it. From now on, I will use italics only for the character's thoughts, while dialogue will just be between "...", and no italics!

In the last chapter, I said that Elia would be Queen Regent for Viserys, and I meant it, it was not my mistake. Since Rhaegar was never the King of Westeros, the title would pass to Viserys, and only then to Aegon. Viserys is the son of the late King, while Aegon is the son of the Prince, so he would be behind Viserys in the line of succession! Had Rhaegar been King, then Aegon would be heir. Should Viserys die without heirs, though, Aegon would inherit.

Now a couple of notes about this chapter. I mentioned Lyanna Stark being Robert's bethroted because the events of the Tower of Joy did not happen yet. Lyanna is still alive, and they do not know she is going to die, so she is still bethroted to Robert.  
And about Stannis, he is not yet married to Selyse. They are just engaged, at the moment being, the marriage did not happen yet.


	4. Chapter 4

It had taken a month for the ship to reach Sunspear. At first, they had sailed in the Blackwater Bay towards Driftmark, the ancient seat of House Velaryon; then the ship had turned South, sailing past Tarth and Shipbreaker Bay. Laerio, the captain of the ship, felt safe only when they had passed Cape Wrath and the island of Estermont, reaching the remains of the Broken Arm.

For the entire trip, the Princess had been very silent. She spent most of the days in her cabin with the children, playing with Rhaenys or telling her stories while Aegon slept in her arms. The captain did not allow any of them to set foot on earth, the ship never stopping. It had been carefully prepared, with supplies of fresh water and food for the whole trip, the whole crew knowing it would be too dangerous to stop in any city before they reached Dorne. Everyone prayed that they did not encounter storms, so that they would not be forced to interrupt the voyage to repair the ship.

They were lucky, however. The worst weather they had got was some rain, but no proper storms, and good enough wind for them to make a pretty quick pace. Jaime was not an expert of travels by ship, but he knew the risks that could bring. The southernmost place he had been before this trip had been the Kingswood, but he could not say this voyage had been planned.

As they approached Dorne, the sun became hotter and hotter, stronger than what he was used to in King's Landing. The Princess seemed to like the heath, taking the occasion to sit outside for some hours with her children, but she did not look happy. _Of course. She lost her husband, and now she is on the run. Her life is in danger, and so are her children. _In silence, he sat by her side, and she did not seem to object.

For a moment, he dared to look at her, the way he had never dared to when she was a Princess, and he a knight of the Kingsguard. Everyone said she was beautiful, but he had never really realized it until he saw her now, dressed in the simple linen they had given her. With her hair undone and without jewels on her neck and wrists, he could see the woman behind the Princess. _She is different from Cersei. _Where the lioness was fair, Elia was dark, a woman grown where his sister had still the freshness of a maiden. The thought made him uncomfortable, and he pushed it away. He missed Cersei, and that was the only regret he had. For a moment, he wondered if he would ever see her again, his other half.

"Why?" The Princess asked, after moments of silence, her hands combing the wisp of silver blonde hair on Aegon's head as the newborn slept in her lap. A few meters away, Rhaenys sat with the kitten in her arms, petting the poor animal until Balerion would meow and claw at the little girl. Small wonder the child had marks all over her hands.

For a moment, he was confused by her question, but then he understood what she meant. He sighed slightly, shaking his head, and before his eyes he could still see his King lying dead on the ground at the feet of the Iron Throne.

"It had to be done." Jaime's reply was too evasive for her tastes, and Elia furrowed her brow.

"Why?" She asked again, her voice growing a bit sterner as she asked the question a second time.

"It was a promise between me and the Prince." The promise to keep his family safe and well, to protect them from Aerys' folly. _I have kept it_.

"Rhaegar made promises to me as well." Her answer was impulsive, and Jaime could hear a note of anger in her voice as she spoke. He decided to ignore it, lowering his eyes and not knowing what to say. _Promise of love, of happiness and respect. The promise to come back to her, when the war would be over._

"He… saw things, he said. Visions, things like that." She continued, her eyes now looking far away, to the blue of the sea. "Do you think he knew…?" She did not complete the sentence, but Jaime knew what she wanted to ask. _Did he know that he was going to die at the Trident? Did he know that the Stark girl would cause a war? _He shook his head.

"I do not know." He replied, sincerely, and she nodded in a sign that she understood. She did not ask anything more, and Jaime was thankful for that.

"I am very grateful for what you did for us, Ser Jaime." He did not know what to say to that. It had been rushed, and a decision made on the spur of the moment, but he did not regret it… he was silent, not knowing what to say, and Laerio intervening only got him away from an embarrassing situation.

"That is Sunspear." The captain pointed with his index finger to the coast, and Elia rose to her feet more quickly than Jaime would have thought. In the distance, he could distinguish a thin line that was the coast, and on the left side of a river there was the city. Sunspear's outline was elegant, all tall, slender towers that reminded Jaime of fingers. The bright points that he saw were the domes, reflecting the light of the sun as they approached the dock, Elia told him.

It did not take long for them to reach the quay, and Jaime was not surprised that there was no crowd to welcome them. They could not exactly celebrate the arrival of the Princess, and all of them needed to reach the safety of the palace as fast as possible. Laerio supervised as they set foot on earth, as if he was afraid there would be an army to welcome them. Elia had the prudence to cover her head with a scarf, and made Rhaenys disguise herself as well while the mother carried Aegon.

When they set foot on earth, a man Jaime did not know approached them, but Laerio did not seem wary of him, as if the two knew each other. The stranger was a tall man, with broad shoulders and fair of hair, and did not wear any armor. Yet, on his back he carried an axe that would be as tall as Jaime.

"Areo… Prince Doran told me he would send you." Laerio greeted, a cheerful note in his voice, but the other man's face was stern. His eyes were fixed on Elia and the children, and he ignored the captain to walk towards them. He bowed his head respectfully towards the Princess, who smiled at him.

"Princess." Elia apparently did not share the love for formalities, and wrapped her free arm around the man in a hug. He returned it, but after a few moments pulled back, looking at unease.

"We must go, Your Grace. It is not safe here." The Princess nodded, while Rhaenys looked at the man from a safe distance, the cat still curled up in her arms. At a gesture of Areo's hand, a small group of men came forward, bringing a palanquin, which Jaime supposed was destined for Elia and the children.

"Ser Jaime, this man is Areo Hotah. A… dear friend." Elia was the one to introduce the two, as Laerio made sure that his crew brought down everything that would be needed. Areo did not seem particularly surprised by Jaime's presence, but looked at him as if he did not approve of something. After a moment, he took the scarf from his neck and offered it to the knight.

"Cover your head. The sun is strong, and you do not want others to see your face." Jaime did not approve of others giving him orders, but after a moment of hesitation he used the fabric to cover his hair and face, mumbling a "thank you".

"I leave you here. You are safe now." Laerio looked proud of what he had done, even more so since the trip had been a dangerous one. They took a few minutes to thank the man and say their farewells, but then Areo urged them on. It was not safe to stay there, and the King's eyes reached as far as Dorne.

Some of the men helped Elia and the children into the palanquin and closed the curtains, while others took what little luggage they had with them. Jaime could have sworn he heard someone chuckle after seeing the sack his armour was in, but pretended not to care, simply not knowing what would be so amusing.

Areo and Jaime walked side by side to reach the seat of house Martell, but the other man was silent. His eyes scrutinized the street they were walking in, making sure that no one would get too near to the palanquin, and Jaime was thankful for the help. His own sword was in its sheathe, and the knight was ready to use it, though he found it unlikely.

"Who are you exactly?" Jaime asked after a few minutes of walking side by side. The man's silence was beginning to unnerve him.

"Areo Hotah. Captain of Prince Doran's guards." The other explained briefly. That explained everything. Now, Jaime felt much more at ease.

* * *

**Author's note**

About the line of succession thing: I checked the facts about Baelor and Aerys, and according to A Word of Ice and Fire, both Baelor's father and Baelor's sons died in the epidemy after Baelor's own death. This means that Aerys I became king, even if he was a second son, but it does not tell clearly who would have been heir if Baelor's sons had lived. I based myself on what would be plausible in my eyes, and I made people call Elia "Queen Regent" because she would be the Regent of the King, hence having the power of a Queen, though I am not very sure of it.

As for Jon Arryn, I did not mean to make him sound evil or anything like that. I just think he is a smart man, and he simply realizes that Elia and the children have to die because they are a threaten to Robert's throne. He does not like it, he does not appreciate it, but it has to be done. He knows that Lannisters are ""evil"", and that is exactly why he suggests Robert to marry Cersei - this way, Tywin would be an ally and not an enemy. As for making Elia look like a martyr, it would still be more dangerous to have her alive, since according to Dornish law she has a claim to the Throne by marriage. Better a martyr than another civil war, in his eyes.

Barristan, in that scene in the last chapter, was putting his duty before his own moral compass. He does not approve, but at the same time he does not feel it is his place to go against the new King.


	5. Chapter 5

"You are beaming."Everyone told her, and Cersei could not have felt happier in that moment. Her head was light, and she was afraid she would faint, but the smile never left her features. She had been taught how to smile and be polite many years ago, but now it only felt natural, all the lessons forgotten. _I am marrying the King. I am marrying the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms. _

As she walked down the aisle to reach the altar where her husband was waiting for her, she lowered her gaze, afraid that she would trip on her gown. Every pair of eyes in the room was on her, admiring her beauty, and she could not have been happier. When she dared to look at her husband, standing by her side in front of the septon, her breath stopped in her throat.

She had seen him before, but this time it was different. He towered over her, majestic in his black and yellow velvets, but his blue eyes were kind, and his smile felt sincere when she saw it. His hair was secured at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon, and his beard had been carefully trimmed. He looked every bit the King, and she could not keep herself from smiling back, a blush creeping on her pale skin.

When he fastened the cloak of his protection on her shoulders, placing his hands on her arms, she realized she had never felt safer in her whole life. This man would protect her, love her, respect her for all his life. They would be so happy together, ruling the Seven Kingdoms as man and wife, as King and Queen.

_For I shall be your lady love, and you shall be my lord. _His beard brushed against her skin as he leant in to kiss her, but his lips were warm on hers. He was hers by oath, and her trembling fingers reached up to gently cup his face in her hands. It tickled, and when the kiss was broken she was giggling like a little girl.

Everyone in the room was cheering for them, sharing their happiness and wishing them a long marriage. She turned to smile at the guests, holding hands with her new husband. He was so strong, his grip making her feel safe and protected. Nothing could hurt her now, and even her father's eyes felt kind as they looked at her. _He is proud of me. _

The feast went on for hours, with enough food to feed a whole army and wine so abundant that it felt like a pouring red river. She had a couple of cups, encouraged by her husband, but no more. No bride would want to be inebriated at her own wedding, it would not have been proper… _and he is enough to make my head light. _

He fed her choice pieces from every dish that was served, cutting the most tender meat for her and once in a while leaning in to kiss her cheek. He behaved like the perfect husband, and looked at her as if she was the only woman in the room.

When the musicians began to play, her husband danced with her the first song before passing her to her father as the custom decreed. She did not mind, cherishing the fact that for once she had made her father proud. In the next hours, she danced with more lords than he could remember, and everyone praised her beauty, told her how lucky the King was to have her by her side. She believed all of them. _Why would they lie?_

By the time she got back to her position by Robert's side, her feet ached from the dancing, but she felt happy. She noticed that her husband was having many cups of wine, but did not allow it to stain her joy. A man had the right to drink as much as he felt like at his wedding, and it was not her place to question it. She told herself that it was normal for him to look at the women that danced for him, and it had nothing to do with desire. _He loves me. He married me, and I am his Queen. _She was the most powerful woman in that room now.

She had expected him to spare her the bedding ceremony, but he did not. When the lords suggested it was time for the couple to be brought in the bedroom, he roared his approval and stood up from his seat. He was drunk, and leant on the table in order to keep his balance. She turned pale, when the lords began to walk towards her, and the ladies towards Robert.

She looked at her father, hoping that he would say something and prevent the bedding, but he sat in his seat. _He is not going to do anything, _she suddenly realized. When the lords began to touch her, pulling at the strings of her bodice or at the ribbons of her sleeves, she wanted to scream, to tell them to stop. Yet, everyone was laughing. She was supposed to enjoy it.

The lords she had danced with mere minutes ago turned into beasts in her eyes, tearing at her beautiful gown. _No. Not my gown. It is silk and Myrish lace. Stop. Stop. Stop. _She curled her arms around her chest to cover herself, and suddenly felt more exposed than she ever was. Everyone was shouting bawdy comments about her, but they were not telling her how beautiful she was anymore.

She was guided up the stairs, towards the chamber. When she reached the doors, she was left with just a sleeveless ivory slip and her smallclothes. The beautiful golden tresses the handmaidens had worked hours to achieve were now undone, and her hair hang loose on her shoulders and back. She wondered if her husband would like her anymore like this, afraid she did not look more regal than a common handmaiden now. At least she could pretend that the tears that had stained her cheeks were from happiness.

When they were left alone in the room, her lord husband's breath was short with laughter. He no longer wore his velvet doublet, and his vest was open on his chest as he stumbled towards her. She knew that the wine had gone to his brain, and for a moment she was afraid he would hurt her.

When he grabbed her wrists, however, he was almost gentle. Clumsily, he laid her on the bed and crawled on top of her. By now, Cersei knew what he wanted from her, and knew that she could not run from this. _It felt good when Jaime did this. It will feel good with him as well. _He was not her brother, however.

Abruptly, her husband's hands lifted her slip to her hips and unlaced her smallclothes, leaving her naked from the waist down. She was supposed to unlace his breeches, but her hands trembled too much, and she only succeeded to fumble with the laces. He was kind, pushing her hand away gently but firmly, and did the deed for her.

She turned her head away, unable to look at him, but Robert was not displeased. _Maybe he never noticed._

Jaime was never drunk when he entered her, and no matter how strong he was his brother never hurt her. Robert was fierce and demanding as he took his husband's right on her, claiming her as his, and Cersei did her best to try to enjoy it. For a moment, she even felt pleasure from the act.

Until the moment he leant in to kiss her temple, and whispered a name in her ear. _Lyanna. _In that moment, Cersei felt her eyes stinging with tears as her husband came undone inside her. His grip on her was too strong, and his face was not her own mirror. He was not her brother, she mourned later that night as Robert slept by her side, the deep sleep of the drunkard.

She laid awake in the marriage bed, her mind focusing on the ache between her legs, telling herself that it was normal. Love would come with time, they had told her. You'll have to make him love you, she remembered her septa telling her. Be a dutiful wife and he will love you… it would not be too hard, to make him forget a dead young woman with common brown hair and the mouth of a boy. Yet, she stopped for a moment, not sure if that was really what she had prepared for all her life. Was this all the happiness she was going to get, she wondered.

_My sweet brother, where are you? _

* * *

**Author's notes:  
**

Good question about Jaime! It is true, no one saw him killing Aerys, but they know he allowed Elia and the children to escape. Everyone also knows that he was the only knight of the Kingsguard in King's Landing at the time. Knowing of Rhaegar's disagreements with his own father, people just assume that Jaime had a sort of agreement with Rhaegar to save the royal family should Robert win the war!

As for Elia's "claim" you are right, it is not really a claim, but she is the only person of age who is related to the Targaryen family - that makes her a threat to Robert's throne, especially since like you said she can ask for the help of Dorne!

I am aware that the chapter can seem a bit short, but I do it for 2 reasons: this way I am sure I can update once a week, and I am also sure I can begin and finish a scene in the same chapter, without interruptions!


	6. Chapter 6

When the Prince had asked Jaime to meet him in the training yard, the younger knight accepted with a certain pride. He was already one of the best swords in the Seven Kingdoms, and he had won many tourneys and melees. He had faced the Smiling Knight, living to tell the tale, and he would not be afraid of Oberyn Martell. When the Prince walked into the yard wearing only a light leather armour, however, the son of Tywin Lannister was puzzled.

While Jaime donned the shining golden plates he had grown accustomed to, the Dornish Prince was clad in silks and supple leather, eight feet of spear in his hand and barely any metal to protect him. _He is going to be faster than me, but one blow will be enough_. Did the man think so lowly of him? _Maybe he underestimated me, _he thought, and promised himself that he would make the man regret his arrogance.

It did not take long before Jaime understood why the Prince had chosen such armour for that training. Fighting against Oberyn Martell was frustrating to say the least, Jaime realized as he was kept at distance by the other man's spear. Every time he felt sure that his blow had hit its target, he found himself some inches too far away from his opponent. The Prince was shorter than him, but the spear was perfect to make up for that difference.

A matter of minutes, and the younger knight was breathing heavily, his brow covered in sweat as he cooked in his armour. The dornish sun was inclement above the training yard, shining on the golden plates and making them as hot as a furnace. Now he understood why the squire who had helped him to prepare for the fight had suggested him a lighter protection instead of metal. He had been a fool not to listen to him.

The fighting was stopped when the heat was too much for Jaime to handle, and the younger knight had to take a couple of steps back. He felt his head light, his vision becoming blurry, and for a moment he thought that he was going to faint. The Prince gestured for the squire to come into the yard, putting a bit of distance between him and his opponent, and the boy offered Jaime fresh water.

"You fought well."Oberyn complimented him, removing his helmet and using the sleeve to dry the sweat from his brow. _At least I made him sweat._

"If not for the heat, I would have beaten you." Jaime protested, taking off his helmet as well. He drank a mouthful of water, allowing the fresh liquid to quench his thirst and wash down the dust from his mouth. It was a blessing, after the heat of the sun, but he forced himself not to seem too eager.

"But we are in Dorne, boy. Better get used to it." Jaime could not say he was used to be called boy. He was a full grown man, a knight, and no one in King's Landing dared to call him boy anymore. Before he could complain, however, someone else's voice reached his ears.

"No need to brag, brother." Jaime knew the voice, and turned to see Elia sitting on a bench in the yard. Suddenly, he felt ashamed that she had seen the whole fight. Oberyn just rolled his eyes, giving the spear over to his squire, and walked towards his sister.

It was the first time Jaime had seen her outside since they had arrived. Usually, she lived as retired as she could, for fear that someone would see her. The travel had tired her, and she was still recovering from all that had happened, but it seemed that being back to her home had a good effect on her. She looked less pale, and there was the hint of a smile on her features as she spoke to her brother. The clothes she wore now suited her more than the gowns she preferred in King's Landing, bright colours and light fabrics to bring out the olive tone in her skin.

"I was just having fun, sister." The two were close, that was one of the first things Jaime had learnt since his arrival in Dorne. _Not as close as me and Cersei, though. _Elia crossed her arms at her chest, turning her head towards Jaime.

"My brother does not know when to keep his tongue in his mouth. Sorry for that." Oberyn stifled a chuckle, and was about to say something, but Elia shot him a glare that convinced him to stay silent. Jaime accepted the apology, allowing himself to feel envious of the bond the two shared for just a moment.

A few hours and a refreshing bath later, he was ready to dine with the rest of the family. Though he was still not comfortable with the Dornish clothing they had given him, at least he had to admit that the company was pleasant. The biggest danger at Doran Martell's table was eating a dish too spicy for his tastes, and even after a few weeks Jaime was cautious with what he put in his mouth. He could not count the times he had eaten something so hot that he felt like his mouth was on fire, and the whole table had laughed at the scene.

The dinners were always pretty private, only for the closest members of the family. One table was reserved for the adults, Doran and his wife Mellario, Elia and Oberyn, with his paramour always by his side. At another table sat the children, six years old Arianne and Oberyn's four bastard daughters, as different from each other as the sun from the moon. Rhaenys had insisted to sit with the other children as well, while Aegon was too young to complain about such things. Quentyn had thrown a fit, from what Jaime had heard, but the both of them spent the evenings in the playroom with the wet nurse.

Only a few servants were employed to serve the dishes, Jaime noticed. It was crucial to keep Elia's presence as hidden as possible, and Areo Hotah supervised every movement of those who had access to the room. Jaime had also noticed a man whose duty was to taste the dishes that would be served, and he could not blame them for the prudence. _No doubt Robert wants their heads, and mine as well. _Yet, he did not fear for himself, and did not feel regret for what he had done.

At first, being in Dorne had been difficult. Everything was so different from what he knew, and he had missed his home. He was not used to people speaking their minds so freely, and the behaviours he saw would have been condemned in every other city of the Seven Kingdoms. Yet, in Sunspear it looked like everyone was free to live their own life, from the Prince to the lowest of the peasants, as long as they accepted the consequences of their choices.

Even if he was not allowed to leave the palace for fear of being recognized, Jaime did not get bored. When she felt good enough, Elia walked with him in the corridors, showing him the ancient seat of House Martell and telling him about their culture. Sometimes Oberyn joined them, adding spice to the stories, and the moments when her brother was with her were the only ones where Areo Hotah dared to relax.

When Elia's health was not good enough for her to rise from the bed, Jaime used the time to train in the yard. He got used to the lighter leather armours that were used in Dorne, and got better with the spear, even if his longsword was still his weapon of choice.

It did not take long, however, before he started missing what he left behind. He did not care for Casterly Rock and his father, or for his sworn brothers of the Kingsguard, but he did miss his sister, and little Tyrion as well. The news of Cersei's marriage to Robert Baratheon had reached as far as Dorne, and Jaime could not say he had been happy to hear the news. _Soon she will give him an heir. _He did not blame her, but it still made him want to take a good horse and ride back to King's Landing to slit Robert's throat.

Sometimes he embraced the idea to ride to the capital in secret and smuggle Cersei away, bringing her to Dorne with him. _She would like it here, _he thought, _maybe we could even marry. _As fast as it had formed, however, the prospect vanished, and he found himself so many miles away from what once had been his whole life.

* * *

**Author notes:**

Here is a transition chapter set in Dorne! Not much happens in this chapter, but I used it to show Jaime's life in Sunspear, and I hope you can enjoy it! Sorry for the small delay in updating, but yesterday I had no access to computer at all so... Stay tuned for next chapter next Saturday, and thank you for sticking with this story!


	7. Chapter 7

The master had not approved of Cersei's desire to see her child, saying she was too weak from the past hours, but she would have none of it. Her child, her precious child… she wanted to see the creature she had given birth to. She had heard the babe cry when the midwives had taken it to wash the blood away. _No, not it._ _He. _She knew he was a boy, she had always known, even before he was born.

Now, as she looked at that little frame cradled up against her chest, she could not help but feeling a rush of love for this creature. He was so tiny, searching for her warmth, and she gladly provided. Instinctively, she held the babe in her arms, calming his soft whimpers with gentle hushes. She was tired, and felt a pulsing pain between her legs, but none of it mattered now. She was a mother, this child in her arms was her son, and she knew she would not love anyone the way she did this babe. This boy would seat the Iron Throne… in her mind, the child had her summer green eyes, and Jaime's smile.

She had not expected the door to open, and even less her husband to come in, yet she supposed he wanted to see his first child. To her surprise, he was not drunk, but walked steadily towards her and the bed, his eyes fixed on the child. Without a word, Robert sat on the edge of the bed, but did not dare to touch the infant. It was as if he did not know what to say.

"You can hold it." Cersei broke the silence, half hoping that Robert would refuse the offer she was forced to make._ It should be Jaime here, and it should be his the child in my arms. _Yet, the King nodded, and took the babe from Cersei's arms. He was surprisingly gentle for a man with his strength, and incredibly careful not to hurt the new-born. For a long moment, he was silent, admiring the new life in his arms.

"He is strong." She had never seen Robert looking so happy as the moment when he turned his eyes back to her, a smile lighting up his features.

"Yes. He is." Cersei reached to brush the babe's forehead with her fingers, as gentle as she could, but allowed Robert to have the child for a bit longer.

"Like me." The man laughed at his own joke, and Cersei rested her head on the cushions behind her with a deep sigh. The gesture brought her husband's attention back to her, his thick eyebrows knitting together in a frown.

"Are you… fine?" The question took Cersei off guard. He had never even pretended to care for her, and she knew that he did not love her. He had been happy when she had told him that she was with child, but that had been all, and every man would have had the same reaction when given the news. _Of course he wants to make sure I am fine. I have to give him more sons. _The thought was bitter in her mind.

"Yes. I am strong too." She managed a tired smile, and he returned it, the worry faded away from his features. Gently, he laid the babe back in her mother's arms, allowing Cersei to hold him. The mother took the child back in her lap as if she had been afraid he would never come back to her.

"I know." She could not decide if he was sincere, or just trying to be supportive, but decided that there was no point in knowing. She turned her head towards the babe, adjusting the blanket around his tiny body to make sure he would stay warm.

"I wanted to name him Jon." Robert admitted after some moments of silence, his big hands sinking a few inches in the mattress as he placed his weight on it. The whole bed creaked at every movement from the King.

"But?" Cersei asked, glad that something had made her husband change his mind about the name of the child. She was not going to have her son with a northern name, though she had feared that Robert would want to make the Prince Jon Arryn's namesake.

"But my Hand of the King is too bloody modest, and asked I would choose some other name." The king explained with a half annoyed scoff. Cersei, however, could not help but be pleased that the Lord of the Eyrie had made Robert changed his mind.

"So what name did you choose?" She asked, knowing that he would never ask for her opinion on the matter. A child belonged to his father, not to his mother, especially a Prince. Especially the rightful heir, the first trueborn son.

"What name would you like?" For the third time in a few minutes, Cersei was surprised by her own husband. Was he really seeking her advice, asking her opinion? He must have noticed the questioning look on her features, for he explained himself better.

"Well… we did it together, didn't we?" Robert might have not been the best man with words, but she still somehow appreciated the effort he did. It was possibly the first thing he did she approved of since the day they had married. She took a moment to think about the answer.

_Jaime. I want to name him Jaime. _She bit the inside of her cheek, looking down at the child in her arms. No, it would not do. Robert would not approve of it. _And it would be too painful. _

"Lyonel." She suggested after long seconds of silence.

"Lyonel." Robert repeated, as if he was testing the name on his tongue. "Lyonel Baratheon." It was a name the both of them could approve of. A Baratheon name, with the sound of the lion's roar in it, perfect for the child born of the union of the two families.

She did not know for how long they stayed like this, in perfect silence, the both of them looking at the child now sleeping in his mother's arms. He looked so peaceful, and Cersei could not help but feeling more at ease as well. She had given her husband an heir, now. A boy… everyone would love her for it, praise her for doing her duty as a wife. She dared to ask herself if this child would make her husband love her as well, if such a thing was possible. Without Jaime by her side, she felt lonely, and she was not used to it. Robert Baratheon was not what he wanted, but in the end she was not what he wanted as well. _What a great pair we are. We both lost the one we loved, and now we are stuck with each other. _

When the midwives came to take the child to his crib, Cersei had a hard time letting go of her son. When she did, all the tiredness from giving birth came back to her, like a wave sucking in her strength. Robert waited outside when the handmaidens washed the sweat and the blood from her body, and prepared her for sleep. Yet, that night he slipped under the covers with her, in the same bed, and did not even try to touch her. She guessed that was as much kindness as she could expect from him. _At least he did not spend the night with some whore. _Usually she did not care if he shared her bed or not but, that night, she was glad for the warmth under the sheets.

"You don't have to stay." She told him in the dark of the room they shared. When he turned to look at her, there was a puzzled expression on his features. "I can't… please you." She explained, for a moment ashamed of the words she said. Her body could not have handled her husband's urges, and the thought of using her mouth as she had done during the last months disgusted her.

She almost felt offended when he laughed at her words, that sound that was half a roar and half a laugh. Apparently he found her words incredibly amusing.

"I did not ask you to spread your legs." He had the gift of speaking clearly, that much she was going to give him. "Now sleep." The smile she gave him was a bit embarrassed, but the sleep she found soon afterwards was deep and without dreams.

When she woke the next morning, he was still there, still asleep. It would have been so easy to suffocate him with a cushion, or slit his throat with a knife. Then, she would be free to run away, to wherever Jaime was. She pondered the possibility for a moment, before pushing it away.

This man was her son's father, whether she loved him or not. She was not going to make her son grow up without a father, on the run because his mother had killed her husband and would be beheaded for it.

The only thing she could do now was giving this man a chance to be a father. _He may not love me, but he will love our son. It is all that matters._

* * *

**Author notes:  
**

This chapter was not beta-ed, because my beta had personal problems and could not do it. I hope you will all understand, and I apologize if some spelling or grammar errors slipped!

To answer the question I got about Jaime - the answer is no, he's not in the Kingsguard anymore. In canon Robert pardoned him and Jaime kept his place in the Kingsguard, but in this story things took a different turn! He still feels some sort of duty, towards Elia and the children, but he's not a Kingsguard anymore.

Now to the chapter! It is quite of a crucial chapter, a turning point in Cersei and Robert's relationship as you can see. I strived to be as in character as I could, and I wanted to let you know that I am not going to make Robert the "villain" of the story, or bash him. As I see him, he's not a bad man, though he's an unfit ruler, and that is what I was trying to go for with this chapter. Let me know what you think, if you feel like it, and catch you next week for the new update!


	8. Chapter 8

_Sunspear, 287 AC_

The whole city was in ferment, for the news had travelled fast, reaching every corner of Dorne. Trystane Martell, third child of Doran and his wife Mellario, was born safely. Another strong, lively boy to grace the ruling family of Dorne.

The birth was to be celebrated, and for the occasion Doran had announced that Sunspear would host a tourney such as Dorne had not seen in years. Jaime suspected that it had taken a lot of convincing, judging from the amount of time Prince Oberyn had spent with his brother. Many noble and smaller houses from all the corners of Dorne had come to greet the babe, and even lowborns did not want to miss the event. Many had travelled great distances, daring to cross the desert, while others had taken risky voyages by ship to reach Sunspear.

By now Jaime could recognize, if not all, most of the banners he saw in the streets of the city. He had lived in Dorne for years and learnt many things during his stay, the longing for Casterly Rock and Cersei's face only a distant memory after all the time spent apart. It had been so long, yet donning a full plate armour again brought back the memory, making him feel nostalgic.

His squire, Nymor Sand, was a lively lad of three and ten with swift hands and dornish coloring, and by now Jaime was used to him. The bastard son of a dornish knight, he had been his squire for the past years, a person Doran trusted, and more importantly a good squire. He worked in silence to help Jaime wear his armour, and this allowed the knight to let his mind wander.

It had been years since his last tourney, though he had never stopped training while he lived in Dorne, and it would be a lie to say he was not looking forward to prove himself again with a lance in hand. He had talked with Doran about it, asking to be allowed to fight, and knowing that the Prince would have objected at first.

It had taken long days of pressure, yet in the end Doran had agreed to let him take part in the tourney as a mistery knight. Jaime had accepted the deal, and now donned an armour that looked nothing like his golden plates. It was well forged, and strong, but still iron, and there were no golden lions to adorn the metal. Even his shield did not bear a coat of arms, but only plain crimson paint on steel. _How ironic, red paint. Dornish sure have a sense of humour. _It was one of the many things he had learnt about Dorne during his stay.

Before going out in the field with the other knights, Jaime wore his helmet, making sure that no one would see his face. He could not afford it, not now. Not after all Doran had done for him during that past years, keeping him safe and working in silence to restore the family's position.

During that day many knights jousted, nobles he had never seen before, and he was among them. He was pleased, though not surprised, to see that the lance was still an extension of his arm, as it had been years before. It was as if he was six and ten once more, bearing his sister's favour and fighting for her eyes in front of a cheering crowd.

Almost no opponent was as good as he was with a lance in hand, and he did not expect them to be. _Jousts are a game. They do not like games, here in Dorne. _From what he had learnt during his stay, Dornish liked to joke about many things, but rarely played when it came to war. For once in his life, Jaime wished he could joust against the White Bull, or Arthur Dayne once more. _Dead. They are both dead. _Jaime did not allow the thought to linger in his mind for too long.

Before he even knew it, he found himself to be one of the two last contenders. Oberyn Nymeros Martell sat on his black dornish steed at the other side of the field, his armour shining under the dornish sun, but Jaime did not hesitate. At the trumpet that marked the beginning of the last joust, he kicked his heels in his horse's flanks and charged, the lance familiarly heavy at his side.

As they charged towards each other, Jaime realized his opponent was aiming for the saddle to unhorse him with a single blow. _A dirty trick. But not one I have not faced before. _He raised his own weapon so that it was pointed to Oberyn's visor, forcing the Prince to move away in order not to get the hit on the helmet. That first charge was empty, and the crowd did not seem to approve it.

After that first charge, there were many others. Five lances were shattered against the breastplates, and a couple of times Jaime could not have said how he managed to keep himself steady on the saddle. Every time the fighters charged the crowd fell silent, holding its breath only to cheer when the opponents rode past each other.

At the sixth charge, the blow Jaime managed to deliver to the Prince's breastplate was not stronger than the ones before. Both lances shattered completely, pieces flying in every direction, and he tightened his knees on the saddle to keep himself on the horse.

He saw with the corner of his eye the Prince flung away from his mount, but for a moment he did not understand why. It took him a second glance at his opponent's horse to realize that the stirrup was no longer attached to the saddle, the buckle broken, and realized why the Dornish had fallen. No one in the crowd dared to laugh, and Jaime could swear that they were as surprised as he was to see their Prince unhorsed.

When Oberyn rose from the dust with the help of his squire, it was clear that the older man was angry. Yet, as Jaime looked at the place of honour that Doran occupied, he could have sworn that the eldest Prince had a smile on his features. _I will not die poisoned tonight,_ Jaime thought, out of breath.

"_My lord and ladies, it seems we have a winner." _Doran rose with some effort from the chair, his wife Mellario helping him discreetly. Even now, at only forty years of age, the gout made it hard for the Prince to move sometimes, but it did not taint the respect his people had for him.

"_His face! Show us his face!" _Some voices rose in approval from the crowd, and for a moment Jaime felt nervous, but Doran shook his head, denying them the request.

"_I fear I can't do that, my friends. If the knight chose to fight in disguise, I can't deny him that wish." _Jaime was grateful for Doran's words, and bowed his head to the Prince in silent thanks. The metal of the helmet would have distorted his voice, he pondered, and he did doubt that someone could have recognized it anyway. He would be safe, as long as he kept his helmet.

"_With Prince Doran's permission, and Prince Oberyn's too of course" _He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning the crowd from behind the visor. There was silence, and it felt almost surreal. It ringed in Jaime's ears, but he did not stop. _"I have no desire to keep this victory for myself." _There was a murmur in the crowd as the people commented on his words, and Jaime waited until it was silent again. Doran nodded slightly, giving him permission to continue talking.

"_I gift this victory to Elia, of House Martell. May she be safe, and come back home soon." _This time, the murmur was stronger, even if Jaime could not quite grasp the words that were said. He felt nervous, wondering if he had gone too far, but after a moment of silence someone in the crowd began to chant.

_"Elia! Elia!"_ Many voices followed, and Jaime bowed slightly before turning his horse and leaving the field. Apparently, he had managed to make them forget their desire to see his face, he pondered as he reached his tent once more. More importantly, he hoped that what he had done would make Elia happy. _She deserves it._

Once he was back in his tent, he took his helmet off, and sighed of relief as his squire began to take the plates off as well. Jaime washed the sweat away from his brow with a damp cloth, and allowed himself a mouthful of sour dornish red from the flask. By now he was used to the taste. The adrenaline would keep him up for some hours more, but he could feel the tiredness seeping through his body.

Beneath her veil, disguised as one of Mellario's ladies in waiting, Elia covered her mouth and giggled.

* * *

**Author notes:**

First thing first - I am awfully sorry for the delay in this chapter. Real life, and sadly inspiration as well, came in the way of writing... hence the wait. I hope you will enjoy this chapter even so, and thank you for your support! Remember you are always encouraged to ask me questions if something is unclear, and I will try to explain myself!  
Have a nice reading, and thank you for your patience!


End file.
